Hints at GL - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As her eyes closed, a dream that had persisted for three months—as relentless as a single day—flashed into her mind like a terminal train arriving exactly on schedule.

Ever since arriving in London, Zhong Ning had been repeating this dream.

Tonight, her reaction was a bit delayed. By the time she became conscious, she was already standing inside a strange bar. The surroundings were clamorous and bustling as usual. The apologetic words, “I don’t quite understand what you mean, why don’t you sit down and have a drink first?” were still echoing in her ears—evidently, the blonde server had just left.

Even though the dream had played out this way every time for three months, Zhong Ning still picked up the camera by her side.

Taking repeated deep breaths, she looked through the lens with a trace of dread. No matter how many times she saw it, the scene still made her tremble—nothing was as lively as it appeared on the surface. On the contrary, this bar looked like a “corpse party.” Everyone was sitting or lying in various distorted poses, their faces pale-blue and corners of their mouths bleeding. Even the server from a moment ago was…

“…”

The sight terrified Zhong Ning so much she couldn’t utter a word. She slowly moved the camera away, and everything she saw with her naked eyes returned to normal. When she picked the camera back up… her face turned pale and ashen in turns.

“Why is it like this…”

It felt as though her breathing had stopped. Zhong Ning tried her best to restrain herself, but her action of repeatedly lifting and lowering the camera quickly drew attention.

In a corner, a man dressed in a sharp suit was already approaching with a glass of vodka. Zhong Ning didn’t dare pick up the camera again; even without looking, she could almost imagine the sight of his head being cracked open. She couldn’t stay here another second.

She desperately wanted to flee, but her body wouldn’t move…

With no choice but to endure, she knew that this nightmare would soon end.

Sure enough, the moment she bit her lip, a woman’s voice rang out by her ear, accompanied by the sensation of a gentle caress on her cheek. “Why are you still here…?” Zhong Ning craved that tender touch; all her wandering and anxiety felt redeemed.

She opened her eyes slightly, but she couldn’t see the other person’s face clearly at all.

Despite this, she knew she was safe. The woman’s slow stroking slid from her cheek down to her neck. Her words carried a hint of playful teasing, yet they weren’t unpleasant: “…Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

Zhong Ning woke up with a start. It was exactly eight o’clock. “…” She sat up from her soft bed, unable to regain her composure for half a minute.

She possessed precognitive abilities; it had been that way for as long as she could remember.

When she was five, Zhong Ning had once mistaken a premonition for reality. She had tugged on a neighbor’s sleeve and asked innocently, “Why are there police at your front door?” After that incident, her father, Zhong Nan, scolded her severely for the first time, and she didn’t dare speak recklessly again.

The very next day, a burglary occurred at the neighbor’s house.

Afterward, similar incidents happened one after another, and her premonitions never missed a beat. Zhong Ning felt irritable whenever she thought about it. Having the same dream for three consecutive months had never happened before; she had no clue when this torture would end.

Moreover, who could that woman be—the one who was intimate to the point of ambiguity?

“…So annoying.”

All she could do was wait. She let out a somewhat dejected sigh. Suddenly, her phone lit up with a text from Barry.

“Are you free tonight? My parents said they’d like to invite you over for dinner.” He still used such strange phrasing. Zhong Ning frowned; it seemed she wouldn’t get any peace even after class.

Throwing back the covers, her fair and slender feet stepped lightly onto the carpet. Walking to the impeccably clean washbasin, Zhong Ning looked at her slightly weary reflection in the mirror, forcing herself to perk up and start her morning routine.

“…Hm?” Her thin fingertip stopped above the vanity. Zhong Ning suddenly noticed her eyeshadow cream was gone. Her exquisite eyes darkened. “…Jing Yang again.”

Jing Yang was a classmate who had flown to London with Zhong Ning. Rumor had it she was the only student among the elite postgraduates at the LSE School of Media who had originally studied Radio and Television Announcing. Such an eccentric transition was, according to Jing Yang herself, because the undergraduate major exams were too easy, allowing her to easily maintain a GPA above 90 for four years.

As for why Jing Yang and Zhong Ning, a business student, had hit it off so well—to the point where Jing Yang gave up her rented house to move into the school dormitory with Zhong Ning—Jing Yang had once explained with a look of mock regret: “That day at the airport, you were wearing sunglasses, high heels, and had those long legs. I thought you were a rich socialite, so I decided to hit on you… Sigh, who knew that as beautiful as you are, you’re actually poorer than me.”

Zhong Ning really wanted to strangle her. What do you mean “actually poorer than you”? Are you poor? Your dad is a TV station director; there’s probably no one in the entire Media school wealthier than you.

She gently pulled her door shut, walked to the door next door, and knocked. “Jing Yang?”

“…” No response.

Time was running short. Zhong Ning knocked again. “Are you up?”

After a long while, a dull thud came from inside. Someone slowly approached the door but asked from the other side, “I don’t have class today and just woke up. What do you want?”

Zhong Ning complained helplessly, “Give me back my Bobbi Brown eyeshadow cream. I’m going to be late.”

The door opened just a crack, revealing only one of Jing Yang’s bleary, sleep-deprived eyes. Her voice was slightly raspy. “Oh, wait a sec…”

“Are you opening it so narrowly because you’re afraid I’ll ravish you?” Zhong Ning narrowed her eyes and tried to push the door open.

Jing Yang’s hazy eyes instantly sharpened. she cried out loudly, “No! You’re not allowed to see my bare face!” She forcefully slammed the door shut again. “Wait a moment at the door, you’re so annoying!”

Zhong Ning found it amusing and didn’t forget to tease her from the hallway, “Don’t worry, Nightclub Princess, no one can see your bare face anyway.”

“Fine, here…”

Jing Yang finally opened the door slightly and handed over the item. “Hm?” She suddenly looked at Zhong Ning through the crack with suspicion. “Your makeup is different today… are you going on a date?”

At the mention of this, Zhong Ning’s face filled with worry. “I just got a text from Barry asking if I was free tonight…”

Jing Yang nodded knowingly. “Oh, the son of the friend your dad mentioned?” She suddenly smiled meaningfully. “He lives in South London… tsk. A rich second-generation guy asks you out and you aren’t rushing? Maybe this is ‘the one’.”

Zhong Ning frowned at her. “Don’t talk nonsense. It’s just a meal at his house.”

Jing Yang rolled her eyes, looking exasperated. “You really are missing a gear. If it were just a meal, why would he have his son invite you?”

Zhong Ning tried to explain, “Because he has to drive to pick me up—”

Jing Yang drawled out, “Oh my god, he even has to drive to pick you up…”

Zhong Ning’s face flushed. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. I’m not chatting with you anymore.”

Barry was Cantonese. Due to his parents’ connections, he had moved to London at age five and had studied and worked here ever since. As for how Barry’s parents knew Zhong Nan, it was simpler than Zhong Ning had imagined.

“I think I heard my parents say that Uncle Zhong met them when their Chinese Chamber of Commerce went on a study and exchange tour. At that time, they wanted to do business in the mainland but didn’t understand the politics. It was Uncle Zhong who helped smooth things over.” Because he hadn’t spoken Mandarin in a long time, Barry’s accent was somewhat awkward.

As he drove, he asked Zhong Ning, “What ‘level’ is Uncle Zhong?” Seeing that Zhong Ning didn’t understand, Barry repeated with some frustration, “I mean, there are many levels, like Division-level or Bureau-level cadres. I don’t quite understand the ranks of mainland government officials.”

Zhong Ning found his effort to speak quite charming and couldn’t help but smile. “Just Division-level.”

Barry let out a long breath and finally succumbed to using English. “Sorry, it’s been too long since I spoke Mandarin. You might not understand me well.”

Zhong Ning nodded and smiled. “It’s fine, we can speak English… and if you find my name difficult to pronounce, you can call me Shirley.”

“No, that’s not polite. It’s better to call you by your real name.”

Barry was truly a sincere and gentlemanly man. Though these were small things, he naturally took the other person’s feelings into account. If his looks weren’t so completely outside her preference, Zhong Ning would have given him a lot of points in her heart.

“By the way, if you don’t mind, I invited someone else to join the meal.” As they spoke, they reached their destination. Barry’s phone suddenly rang. He spoke in Cantonese this time, which was much more fluent. “Have you arrived yet? I’ve picked her up… coming in now.”

Zhong Ning didn’t understand a word, so she didn’t pay much attention. “…” She looked out of the car window, her mind filled with one thought: Is this South London?

The area belonged to the Chelsea district, one of London’s famous high-end communities. Although “true” wealthy people preferred to live in the more remote suburbs where the environment was more elegant and quiet, this place, even within Zone 2, was considered quite prestigious.

The average house price exceeded £900,000; at least based on her family background, Zhong Ning wouldn’t be able to afford it in this lifetime.

Zhong Ning sighed as she stood before the three-story villa with its alternating white and dark-red facade. To say she didn’t feel envious would be hypocritical. Jing Yang was right—who among the international students was the poorest? Looking left and right, a “second-generation official” with a thin background like hers was the poorest.